“I’m not interested in the middle road…..maybe because everyone’s on it.”
Read her for an insight into life as a sequence of images that shimmer around the edges.
Because it is on those edges that you begin to hear a stranger music.
“I write entirely to find out what I’m thinking, what I’m looking at, what it means.”
What does it mean to be alive anyway?
Slouching towards Didion gives you few answers but plentiful insight.
“An attack of nausea does not now seem to me an inappropriate response to the summer of 1968.”
See what I mean.
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